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﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿Many of my readers are familiar with my spiritual teacher, mentor, and friend Kathryn Harwig. She recently wrote a piece that is a very common-sense, down-to-earth expose on intuition. I liked it so much I asked her permission to reprint it here:﻿

﻿Recently someone asked me, “How do I know if the information I am getting is coming from my intuition or from my own self talk?” This is a very good question, and one that everyone who is serious about being intuitive needs to ask on occasion. It is a challenge to be intuitive about yourself and most of us find that it is far easier to give someone else a psychic reading than to give ourselves good intuitive advice.

Why? Because our own hopes, dreams, worries and fears tend to get in the way of our hearing our inner psychic, at least when we are asking for information for ourselves. Many people solve this dilemma, at least in part, by consulting with other psychics. But, we also want and need to use our intuition to make our own lives better. So, it is necessary, I think, to be able to distinguish the voice of our inner self talk and the quiet voice of our intuitive wisdom.

I attended a talk once where the speaker said that our unconscious mind was unable to hear the word “Not”. Her point was that when we make affirmations such as, “I do NOT want to be fat”, our unconscious mind only hears, “I am fat.” I don’t know if this is true or not, but, upon reflection, I realized that my intuition almost never uses the word “not.”

I will hear, for example, “take this route to work” rather than “do NOT take your usual route”, or, “make this telephone call” rather than, “do NOT call this person.” My “tips for better living” mind, on the other hand, is always telling me what not to do. Thus, when I hear advice about what not to do, I am generally certain it is coming from the part of me that is fearful about something, rather than my intuition.

Another way I differentiate between intuition and self talk is that intuition speaks without emotion. It often “hits” out of the blue with no relationship to what I am doing or even thinking about it. It comes as an emotionless statement in my mind, or a mental picture or even a physical sensation. Seldom though, does it carry a strong emotional charge with it. Even when I see, in my minds eye, something that would normally frighten me, I am able to view it intuitively as if I am watching a movie that doesn’t involve me.

My inner voice though, seems to thrive on emotion. When I think about something and ruminate on it, I tend to feel a lot of emotions. Whether the emotion I feel is excitement, joy, fear or worry is irrelevant. Feeling that type of emotion along with a thought is a clue to me that the thought is not an intuitive message.

Another clue is that intuitive information tends to come without any value judgment attached to it. My intuition gives me messages without any sense of “good” or “bad”, “right” or “wrong.” Sometimes, after getting this information, my conscious mind jumps in, placing judgment on what I have received. But, the actual vision or words or feelings never carry a sense of rightness or wrongness. That is because intuitive information is valueless. It is never right or wrong…good or bad. It simply is.

Not long ago I got an email from some one who had heard me giving intuitive insights to audience members. Her email said, “How do you differentiate between common sense and intuition? When I listened to your intuitive messages, I thought, “this is just common sense advice.”

She made a very good point. As I pondered that I thought, “Where does common sense come from?” We talk about “common sense” as if it is something we can define and understand, but what is it, exactly? I laughed to myself when I realized that common sense is just another way to describe intuition. It is that wiser part of ourself that “just knows things.”

How do you tell what is intuition and what is self talk? I would love to hear from you!

I first learned about the organization known as KIVA several years ago on OPRAH! I was intrigued by the concept of lending to people around the world small amounts of money that they would then pay back over six to twelve months.

I took the plunge a couple of years ago and I’ve never looked back. It is so much fun to see where your money goes and who it is going to and what they will use it for.

You control the country and person you loan to as well as the amount of the loan. It is a wonderful concept that works!

How many of us go out for supper at least once a week and spend $25? That’s what it takes to make a KIVA loan – $25. Done over time, it is money you never miss. And, the best part is, your borrowers pay you back and if you choose to, you can turn around and re-loan that same money … again and again and again.

You really are helping one person at a time make their lives, and the lives of their families, better. It is a feeling of personal satisfaction like no other.

Our local paper did an article yesterday on KIVA and micro-lending. I was so happy when I was contacted to talk about my experiences with KIVA and micro-lending.

My hope is that it will inspire others to take that first step and change a life.

I now “own pink” and you can too! You don’t have to like pink or even wear pink – you can just “own pink.”

What does it mean to “own pink?”

You own pink when you are who you are, warts and all. A blog called Owning Pink was started alittle over a year ago by Dr. Lissa Rankin.

Over the course of the past year, women and a few men, have found her blog (including me) and we became part of “the pink posse.” We share our thoughts, our beliefs, our difficulties and our triumphs. And it is all done in a very warm, nuturing and loving environment.

It was an amazing and wonderful opportunity to share my life’s stories with this great group of people.

A month ago, Lissa took the next big step by making Owning Pink a website.

She asked some of us to be regular contributors. I was thrilled and honored to be asked to write for Owning Pink!

I will still be maintaining my blog, Love Lives On, as well as writing for Owning Pink.

Come on over and check us out. I guarantee there is something for everyone!

The Universe has been nudging me to write a post about gratitude. Last week I watched Laura Ling tell of her time spent in a North Korean prison when she and fellow reporter Euna Lee accidently crossed into North Korea while working on a story. They were thrown into prison, put on trial, and sentenced to 12 years of hard labor.

To make matters even worse, the United States has no diplomatic relations with North Korea, and at the time of their arrest, North Korea was shooting off rockets and the underlying threat of a nuclear war was lurking.

Laura was in a precarious predicament, with not much hope for the future or release and a return to her family and the life she knew.

She was asked how she got through it. What she said amazed me and has really resonated with my soul.

She said she was able to endure because she focused on gratitude. Many of us go through our lives unhappy and complaining about what are really inconsequential and trivial parts of our lives. The question is — when the chips are really down, can you still find your gratitude?

Gratitude is easy when we are happy, our family is doing well, jobs are secure and meaningful, health is abundant, finances are stable — then it is very easy to be grateful … most of the time we take it all for granted and assume that this is how life is suppose to be.

For many people in this world they do not have even a fraction of what we take for granted … and they are grateful … gratitude can be found in the midst of deplorable, desperate conditions, death and destruction, famine and disease. Just as God is always present no matter what – we can always find gratitude no matter what – we just have to be intentional and seek. Once we seek, we will find.

Once we start, it will become contagious and we will be able to find more and more in our lives to be grateful for

Laura Ling said it was easy to find the gratitude as she sat in her solitary, cold, damp, dark cell. That in itself is a blessing to be grateful for.

She was grateful for the three meals she was given each day. The meals were small, but they sustained her and she knew that there were many in North Korea who were starving.

She was grateful to see a butterfly occasionally flit by her window. It gave her hope, even though she could not smell the fresh air or feel the sunshine, she saw a butterfly go by and she was grateful.

This morning I received an email containing a you tube video of Nick Vujicic. Nick is 26 and was born without arms or legs. Nick is filled with gratitude. Here is a link to the you tube video and to Nick’s website, Life Without Limbs.

We are all born to travel our own path; when we find the right one, it feels like we have come home. What works for me may not necessarily work for you and vice versa. Understanding this removes judgment from the equation. How can we judge another’s destiny? The answer, of course, is that we cannot. All we can do is focus on our own journey.

Intention springs from our deepest desires, and those desires are shaped by karma. You and I don’t have the same karma; therefore we dont have exactly the same desires. We have loved different people, knelt at different graves, prayed at different altars. The specifics of desire are unique to each of us.

Yet if you follow the chain of desire, in the end we are all the same. We want to be happy. We want to be fulfilled. We want meaning and purpose in our lives. We want a sense of connection with God or spirit. We want other people to respect us and love us. And we want to feel safe. These desires are universal. But the route each of us takes to satisfy them is uniquely our own, based on our individual experiences and memories, or karma. Were all heading for the same destination, but we take different roads. We arrive together, having traveled our different paths.

This is quite a wonderful book. It explains in great detail how and why the universe lives in each of us and works through each of us. This knowledge is the key to realizing our full potential as human and spiritual beings. I highly recommend it!

Click here to buy Sixty Seconds. Click here to ask Phil to add you to his e-mail list for updates on his blog and books.

Reading this book is like spending a few minutes face to face with each of the contributors and listening to their personal stories. Click here to read unsolicited testimonials from readers. Learn more by visiting the official Sixty Seconds website.

Sixty Seconds was one of three finalists in the General Interest/How-To category at the 12th annual Visionary Awards presented by COVR (Coalition of Visionary Resources) in Denver on June 27, 2009.

If my last post didn’t convince you of God’s intimate presence in our lives, perhaps this one will. This story comes directly from Phil Bolsta’s blog, http://bolstablog.com

Keep in mind, though, that whether or not this gentlemen listened to what he was being told, he still would have been fine – the outcomes would have been completely different, of course, but HE still would have been fine. Different lessons would have been learned, but HE STILL WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE.

Now … on to the story:
When Christopher Barbour, a clairvoyant intuitive and writer who assists law enforcement with difficult cases, told me these two amazing stories about how his angel saved his life, I knew I had to share them here. Goose bump alert!

As far back as I can remember, I have always felt watched over and cared about by a divine mysterious creator, and what I would call a spiritual support system. Thankfully, this inner life of mine was not foisted upon me by organized religion or well meaning family members—it’s always been there, and always will be there.

When I was seven, episodes of clairvoyance and intuition spontaneously began to bubble to the surface in my life. These experiences always took me directly to the sacred and the mysteries that we all share. That intuitive wiring of mine would eventually become part of my work, expressed via a path of mysticism and service.

If you asked me prior to when I reached my 30s if I believed in angels, I would have said, ”Of course!” I would have answered that question looking through the prism of faith, combined with an inner knowing, as well as through reading accounts in ancient sacred texts, and listening to stories people have shared with me over the years about encounters with angels.

In the fall of 2002, I was dealing with some difficult personal and family issues and was rebounding from the death of a friend who had a long struggle with heroin addiction and eventually died of complications from hepatitis. I was in such a state that no amount of praying, meditation or discussion with my support system was helping. I was in a crisis mode unlike anything I had experienced before, and decided one blustery fall day, to take a long walk in a forest near my home in northern Arizona that many have described as “magical.” Walks alone in nature had become my way to deal with my mysteries and some of the darkness of my work, so it seemed the perfect thing for me to do under the circumstances.

My walk began normally but within about forty-five minutes, I had become so entrenched in my own head and problems that I hadn’t realized that I had veered off the path and was walking through a thicket of small trees and shrubs. I kept walking for several more minutes, approaching a line of low shrubs, when I heard a woman call my name. The voice that called “Christopher!” was female, and though I couldn’t place her, she sounded familiar; she shouted my name as only someone who knew me very well would.

I froze on the spot and looked to my left where the voice seemed to come from, and briefly saw a beautiful woman with long, light brown hair and a light colored diaphanous gown. She disappeared after a few seconds, before I was able to get a good look at her. I looked down and realized that I was no longer on the path, and that if I had taken one more step, I would have fallen forty feet onto jagged rocks below. I stood there, alone in the forest, closed my eyes and said to her, “Thank you, thank you, thank you . . .”

In early December 2004, I booked a trip back to the east coast to see my family in Connecticut for the holidays. I had arranged my trip so that I would return to Arizona on January 4th, after the holiday travel rush. One evening, I got into bed and fell into that state just before sleep called the hypnogogic state.

That is when a profound vision was downloaded into me. I was shown a scenario, seen from my own point of view, of flying back to Arizona from the east coast. It was stormy and raining as the plane landed. I looked to my left and in the seat next to me, there she was again, my angel—beautiful, light-filled, with long hair—the same woman who had called my name that day in the forest two years earlier. She was so light-filled, in fact, that I couldn’t look at her for more than a few seconds for fear that my eyes couldn’t take the brightness.

I was shown myself getting into the car that was to pick me up after my flight home, and then shown the driver and me on the highway north of Phoenix whizzing along. The car hit a patch of ice and I saw myself as the car began to slide off the highway and crash and come apart. I saw the windshield coming closer as I was thrown out of the car. There in front of me, seconds before what would have been my death, was my angel, smiling and radiating peace that I could feel deep within. I awoke with a start, shocked by what I had been shown with such razor clarity. I laid in bed for some time thinking about the vision and pondering canceling my trip east. It was very clear in the vision that I was flying west when this event happened, after I had been to the east coast. As I fell back to sleep, the vision came a second time, exactly as it had played out the first time. It was as if God and my angel didn’t want to leave room for denial or any ”it was just a dream” nonsense. It worked. I awoke the second time with a start and simply said, “Thank you God, thanks guys, I get it, I get it.”

After the visions, I was left with a strong inner knowing that as long as I didn’t return on January 4th, I would not die. I went back east for the holidays and after a few days, I checked the weather reports for Arizona and learned that a series of storms was heading toward the state. In fact, the part of Arizona where I live was bracing for severe floods and storms capable of producing dangerously icy conditions. I called the airline and extended my stay in Connecticut for a week, knowing that it was important, if I wanted to live, not to return to Arizona on January 4th.

I began to think of the driver who was to pick me up at the airport on January 4th and drive me home. As he was driving me to the airport in Phoenix at the beginning of my trip, he said that he would be dropping someone off at my airline around the time of my return, so it would be he easy for him to pick me up and drive me back home. I attempted to tell him about the visions I had but I was unable to get through to him. I learned early in life that when it comes to visions, people are either open or they’re not-—many, especially men, are unreachable until an experience actually happens to them.

As I sat in my mother’s home in Greenwich, Connecticut, I wondered, Should I call the car service to warn them, not caring if I sounded like a goofball? I decided to do that, and though I tried to call the number at least a dozen times over the course of several days, my call would never go through. It felt to me as though Heaven had something up their sleeves and it was not my business to mess with it. As January 4th neared, I sent the driver grace and prayers for his safety and greater good.

I returned home to Arizona completely intact. I had missed what friends and neighbors would eventually call “the 100-year flood.” A few weeks after my return, I was catching up with a friend who works in law enforcement and she told me that in early January, while I was away, there had been a terrible accident on the highway north of Phoenix. I froze as she said, “Thank God, no one was in the car with the driver. He lived, but there was virtually nothing left of the rest of the car.”

Several weeks after that, in a synchronicity that only the gods could arrange, I ran into the man who would have been my driver that day—the man who survived the crash. He proceeded to tell me that on January 4th, after dropping a woman off at the airport, he had a very close brush with death as he made his way north on highway I-17. His car hit a patch of ice on the highway north of Phoenix and there was a devastating accident. He told me that the police could not believe that he lived. Only the cage around the driver was intact, the rest of the car was tangled, jagged metal. When the police found out that he worked for a car service, they said, “Thank God you didn’t have any passengers. There’s no way they could have survived.” Then he told me something that I found both fascinating and chilling. The accident occurred in the exact spot where he had pulled over years earlier, to pick up a dead owl and give it a respectful burial.

That driver was scheduled for a close brush with death for reasons known only to God and that man’s spiritual support system. This God we experience and speak about knows the tiniest details about our lives. It was known that this brush with death was scheduled and necessary, and that I was “accidentally” scheduled to be in that car. It was somehow necessary in the whole scheme of things that I was not to reach the car service or the driver to give them a heads up. It felt as if God and my angel were saying, via the visions I was sent

We want you to know this is on the horizon. You can come home if you want, but we think you are needed on that bedeviled planet and have more work to do. It’s up to you, you can come home or stay. The choice is yours. We will be watching very closely.

Needless to say, I chose to stay. What I have learned through these two experiences is that we are more closely watched, and watched over, than we could ever imagine. I often wonder, “Just what is this unseen world that exists and cares so much about us within the vastness of time and space?” I am humbled, and I often cry, when I think about how much this mysterious creator and my angelic companion care about me.

I have never taken one walk in the beauty that surrounds me since without thinking about my angel and the day she called my name with such compassion, saving me from breaking my body in two. Her beauty and light is hard to describe and my love for her knows no bounds. She was there, right beside me in the visions of the car crash, letting me know that she would walk with me to what lies beyond the veil of death, where our lives really begin.

The visions themselves came from the One who created all visions, and wired us with intuition and spiritual gifts and skills and the stamina to not care what others think, the One who waits for us to awaken from our human slumber, who longs for us to remember what we already know.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This story was taken from Triumph of the Spirit, Phil Bolsta’s blog. To learn more about Phil or to read other great stories (including a couple of mine) go to: http://bolstablog.com

Reading this book is like spending a few minutes face to face with each of the contributors and listening to their personal stories.Click hereto read unsolicited testimonials from readers. Learn more by visiting the official Sixty Seconds website.

I’ve never copied anyone’s blog entry verbatim … until now. I read Phil’s post for today after I had written my own blog entry and it tied in so closely with what I was trying to get across, that I decided the best thing to do was to borrow it and reprint it here as well.

Here is Ken Gaub’s phone call – THE BEST STORY EVER!:

Do you believe that God not only loves you, but knows where you are and what you’re doing every minute of the day? I certainly do after an amazing experience I had several years ago.

At the time I was driving on I-75 near Dayton, Ohio, with my wife and children. We turned off the highway for a rest and refreshment stop. My wife, Barbara, and our children went into the restaurant. I suddenly felt the need to stretch my legs, so I waved them off ahead, saying I’d join them later. I bought a soft drink, and as I walked toward a Dairy Queen, feelings of self-pity enshrouded my mind. I loved the Lord and my ministry, but I felt drained, burdened. My cup was empty.

Suddenly, the impatient ringing of a telephone nearby jarred me out of my doldrums. It was coming from a phone booth at a service station on the corner. Wasn’t anyone going to answer the phone?

Noise from the traffic flowing through the busy intersection must have drowned out the sound because the service station attendant continued looking after his customers, oblivious to the ringing.

“Why doesn’t somebody answer that phone?” I muttered. I began reasoning. It may be important. What if it’s an emergency? Curiosity overcame my indifference. I stepped inside the booth and picked up the phone.

“Hello,” I said casually and took a big sip of my drink. The operator said: “Long distance call for Ken Gaub.” My eyes widened, and I almost choked on a chunk of ice. Swallowing hard, I said, “You’re crazy!”

Then, realizing I shouldn’t speak to an operator like that, I added, “This can’t be! I was walking down the road, not bothering anyone,and the phone was ringing… “

Is Ken Gaub there?” the operator interrupted, “I have a long distance call for him.” It took a moment to gain control of my babbling, but I finally replied, “Yes, he is here.”

Searching for a possible explanation, I wondered if I could possibly be on Candid Camera! Still shaken, perplexed, I asked, “How in the world did you reach me here? I was walking down the road, the pay phone started ringing, and I just answered it on chance. You can’t mean me.” ”Well,” the operator asked, “Is Mr. Gaub there or isn’t he?”

“Yes, I am Ken Gaub,” I said, finally convinced by the tone of her voice that the call was real. Then I heard another voice say, “Yes, that’s him, operator. That’s Ken Gaub.” I listened dumbfounded to a strange voice identify herself. “I’m Millie from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. You don’t know me, Mr. Gaub, but I’m desperate. Please help me.”

“What can I do for you?” I said. She began weeping. Finally, she regained control and continued. “I was about to commit suicide, had just finished writing a note, when I began to pray and tell God I really didn’t want to do this. Then I suddenly remembered seeing you on television and thought if I could just talk to you, you could help me. I knew that was impossible because I didn’t know how to reach you, I didn’t know anyone who could help me find you. Then some numbers came to my mind, and I scribbled them down.”

At this point she began weeping again, and I prayed silently for wisdom to help her. She continued, “I looked at the numbers and thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I had a miracle from God, and He has given me Ken’s phone number?’ I decided to try calling it. I can’t believe I’m talking to you. “Are you in your office in California?”

I replied, “Lady, I don’t have an office in California. My office is in Yakima, Washington.” A little surprised, she asked, “Oh really, then where are you?” ”Don’t you know?” I responded. “You made the call.” She explained, “But I don’t even know what area I’m calling. I just dialed the number that I had on this paper.”

“Ma’am, you won’t believe this, but I’m in a phone booth in Dayton, Ohio!” ”Really?” she exclaimed. “Well, what are you doing there?” I kidded her gently, “Well, I’m answering the phone. It was ringing as I walked by, so I answered it.”

Knowing this encounter could only have been arranged by God, I began to counsel the woman. As she told me of her despair and frustration, the presence of the Holy Spirit flooded the phone booth, giving me words of wisdom beyond my ability. In a matter of moments, she prayed the sinner’s prayer and met the One who would lead her out of her situation into a new life. I walked away from that telephone booth with an electrifying sense of our Heavenly Father’s concern for each of His children.

What were the astronomical odds of this happening? With all the millions of phones and innumerable combinations of numbers, only an all-knowing God could have caused that woman to call that number in that phone booth at that moment in time.

Forgetting my drink and nearly bursting with exhilaration, I headed back to my family, wondering if they would believe my story. Maybe I better not tell this, I thought, but I couldn’t contain it. ”Barb, you won’t believe this! God knows where I am!”

Dr. Louis LaGrand is a world-renowned grief educator and author of eight books as well as numerous articles on the phenomenon of “extraordinary experiences of the bereaved” also known as after death communication.

I first learned of Dr. LaGrand’s work when he was a guest on Carolyn Carlson’s radio program, Life After Loss.

Since that time, I have had the opportunity to share many of my own personal extraordinary grief experiences with Dr. LaGrand, and it has been a real blessing.

Dr. LaGrand also publishes monthly ezine articles that deal with the various aspects of grief, mourning, death, and dying – but most importantly he focuses on how to heal and live life in joy.

The topic of this month’s ezine was “What To Do If You Uncover A Secret About Your Deceased Loved One.”

Reading this article reminded me of an anonymous letter we received shortly after Liz’s death.

Dear Family of Elizabeth Wencl,

I know you must be feeling incredible amounts of grief right now, and I am so sorry about your loss. But I never got a chance to sincerely thank Liz, so I want to thank the people who brought her into this world.

When I was in high school, Liz was a senior. Liz didn’t know me, but I guess she knew my older sister a little. I had a crush on one of Liz’s friends. One night at a party he decided to take advantage of that. I was very scared and very sad, and I was crying hysterically.

I knew nobody because they were all two years older, and the guy was too busy making fun of me to care. Your daughter saved me. Liz asked me if I was ok. She sat and held me and talked to me and told me that it would be ok. The next morning she took me out to breakfast and gave me her phone number and told me if I needed anything I could call her.

To some people this may not seem like a big deal, but it was to me. Your daughter, without knowing me, took me in under her wing.

Liz was an amazing girl. Maybe someone in heaven needed her, like I needed her that night. But like I said, I never got a chance to truly thank her, so I want to thank you for bringing her into this world and for bringing her up to be such a wonderful and caring girl.

The world will truly miss her.

To this day I have no idea who this girl is. And although I am so sorry she had such a traumatic experience, I am so thankful that she was brave enough to send us such a wonderful letter.

Everyone who knew Liz, knew she loved to party … way too much. But the fact that she was able to help someone else as she did, says alot about her true character. As her family we are so blessed to have had her in our lives.